


Measure in Love

by burnthepasttotheground



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Fluff, Important Conversations, M/M, Post-Rent, ace!mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthepasttotheground/pseuds/burnthepasttotheground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mark is panromantic asexual, but none of those words are spoken. Because it’s the ‘90s. Published in honor of Ace Day (see notes).</p><p>*edited July 9, 2015*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measure in Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted in honor of Ace Day, but it has since been edited (mostly for style, the content's pretty much the same). If anyone really liked the original, let me know. I still have it on my computer, if you'd like it. Thanks for reading!

It was a warm summer morning in the loft, and Roger sat alone on the couch. It had been about a year and a half since that extraordinary Christmas Eve—the second extraordinary Christmas Eve in a row—when Mimi had miraculously come back to them, and back to life. She and Roger had had a couple good months together after that, months that he would never forget, but she never fully recovered from the pneumonia she’d contracted that December. Although she bravely and stubbornly fought it off for a while, striving to live in the moment but never fearing the inevitable, eventually she too succumbed to the horrible disease which had already claimed her friend’s life.

Roger had mourned deeply after her passing. In fact, he’d hardly gotten out of bed for a week. Mark had been on high alert during that time, making sure Roger didn’t slip back into any of his self-destructive habits. Something about Mimi’s “no day but today” philosophy must have rubbed off on him, though, because Roger never completely returned to the dark place he’d been in before he met her, and Mark never had a need to save Roger from himself. He was lucky; Mimi’s life had affected Roger more than her death had. She had been so crucial for him.

“Hey, Mark?” Roger called over his shoulder, toward the kitchen.

Mark had also mourned Mimi’s passing, though to a lesser extent. He loved Mimi dearly and was utterly indebted to her for bringing Roger back out. Mark didn’t know where Roger would be today if Mimi had never come along. She had breathed life back into him, and Mark was eternally thankful for that. He was especially grateful to her on that night six months ago.

********

It was almost three in the morning, and they were sitting on Roger’s bed talking. Not about anything special. It happened a lot. Mark would come into Roger’s room to tell him something—usually to take his meds—or to ask a quick question, and he would wind up staying there for hours. Oftentimes they would both fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, and Mark would spend the night in Roger’s room. That’s what was happening that night. Mark had been on the verge of falling asleep for half an hour when Roger suddenly turned toward him.

“What’s up?” Mark wanted to say, but all he could manage in his tired state was “Hmm?”

Roger looked at Mark for a second, and, before either of them realized what he was doing, kissed him square on the lips. Mark would have been thrilled, had he not been nearly asleep and taken completely off guard. In his sleepy stupor, he failed to return his friend’s physical affection. It was only after Roger had pulled away and quickly apologized that Mark realized what he should have done.

“No. It’s okay,” he reassured, tired and still a bit confused. He had enough presence of mind to recognize he had missed an opportunity, though.

“Mark, I wasn’t—I don’t know—” Roger fumbled for words. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to kiss his roommate. Well, he knew _why_ he had kissed him, but he didn’t know why he had kissed him _now_. And he had no clue how to explain himself in a way that wouldn’t make Mark feel uncomfortable.

On top of his exhaustion and annoyance with himself, Mark felt bad that Roger was apologizing. If he’d been alert enough to return Roger’s advances, he wouldn’t have to apologize at all. Mark really didn’t have the energy for this.

“Hey,” he touched Roger’s forearm, trying to calm him down; he could feel the anxiety radiating from his friend. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.” His eyes closed again.

“’Kay. Sorry.”

********

Mark didn’t look up from the coffee he was pouring. “Yeah?” He called toward the couch. He had no idea what his roommate was going to say next—Roger usually wasn’t very talkative before noon if he could help it—but he didn’t sound too serious, so Mark didn’t stop what he was doing.

********

Roger woke first the next morning, filled with dread. He’d slept horribly, his mind racing to figure out what he was going to say in the morning, but he still had no idea what to tell Mark. And apparently, Mark thought an entire conversation was in order. Fortunately, he didn’t have too much time to panic because Mark woke up a few minutes later.

“Hey,” Mark said, still lying on the bed. He looked up at Roger, who was sitting with his back against the wall, where a headboard would be if he could afford one. After a moment, Roger began to apologize again, hoping the right words would come to him once he started talking.

“Look, Mark…”

Mark sat up next to him. They were right back where they were the night before.

“No. Roger, I just wanted to tell you—” He paused and thought for a second, and decided that actions might speak louder than words in this situation. So he kissed Roger. It was a calculated decision on Mark’s part, unlike Roger’s impulsive move the night before.

Roger, though also taken aback, was not as drowsy as Mark had been, and, without even thinking about it, returned Mark’s advances. When they broke apart, it was his turn to speak.

“ _What?!_ ”

“I wanted to. Last night. I was just tired, and … I don’t know … I fucked up,” he paused to see if Roger would say something. When he didn’t reply right away, Mark continued. “I know I probably stressed you out a little bit. I’m sorry.”

Roger had tried to prepare for a lot of things Mark might say in the morning, but he was wholly unprepared for this.

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” said Mark softly, and Roger, ever the wordsmith, kissed him again.

When they eventually pulled away from each other, Mark recognized that one of them needed to use their words, and he doubted it was going to be Roger.

“So … what does that mean?” he asked simply, trying and failing to catch Roger’s far away gaze.

After a couple beats, Roger sighed and answered, “Nothing.”

He turned his head toward Mark whose face very clearly exclaimed, _What the fuck do you mean, nothing?_

“Mark, it can’t,” he began. “It can’t mean anything because you and I can never—I can’t risk infecting you.”

“Oh,” Mark replied evenly. Roger was confused at Mark’s light tone of voice, and it showed on his face. Mark had meant to sound a little more solemn, but he genuinely wasn’t concerned. After all, it’s not like he had been given new information. “Rog … you know … that’s not like a huge deal. Sex, I mean. I mean, I don’t mind … if you don’t want to risk it. We can still—”

His roommate had heard enough, and Mark was cut off by Roger’s lips on his.

********

“Do I not … um …” Roger started to answer Mark, realizing too late that this was an awkward subject to broach, and before noon at that.

“What?” Mark prodded from the kitchen.

“ _Turn you on?_ ”

********

So Mark and Roger became an item. It was an easy transition, actually. They each finally knew how the other felt, Mark slept in Roger’s room all the time instead of most of the time, and they become more physically intimate.

Collins and Maureen were remarkably supportive, and apparently had been making bets on when it would happen for nearly half a year.

Everything was going so well that Roger even would have considered _some_ type of sex with Mark—with precautions of course—but it never came up. After six months, they had had no sex of any kind, and Mark never spoke of it. Roger knew he should be relieved. It was one less thing to worry about. After all, this was the most drama-free relationship he’d ever been in, and he didn’t want to fuck that up. Still, he grew more and more self-conscious. He knew it was selfish, but he’d thought this sacrifice would have been more difficult on Mark. It’d been difficult on _him_. He wondered if he’d done something wrong. Did Mark not feel as strongly as he did?

********

It would have probably been a surprising question to most people, but Mark knew instantly where his boyfriend was coming from. In the back of his mind, he’d always had a feeling this would happen. He took a deep breath and carried their coffee to the couch.

“It’s not you, Rog.”                                               

He handed one of the mugs to Roger, who was waiting silently for Mark to continue answering, and took a seat on the coffee table in front of him.

He shrugged and said quietly, “I don’t think it really … _happens_ for me.” It wasn’t the most articulate explanation, but he’d never had a real conversation about this, and he wasn’t anxious to be having this one.

Roger didn’t know how to reply. He wasn’t even entirely sure what Mark meant. He watched him quietly, trying to think of a response.

Mark looked down at his coffee and avoided Roger’s gaze. He thought maybe he should have just lied to him. Now the can of worms had been opened, and he was going to have to talk about it, and Roger was going to think he was crazy, and that would be the end of things. He definitely should have lied.

“But,” Roger finally began, and Mark braced himself for whatever he was about to say. “With Maureen … didn’t you...?” Roger trailed off, feeling a bit awkward for asking.

“Have sex?” Mark asked bluntly, amused at Roger’s embarrassment.

Roger gave a quick nod.

Mark was relieved at the fairly innocent question. It could have been worse. Still, he answered slowly, wondering how best to explain himself.

“Yeah. We did. I mean … _Maureen_.” He gave Roger a look to get his point across. “Just …” He stopped speaking and looked down. He didn’t know how to say it. Plus Roger was still looking at him and listening intently, which only made him more uneasy. Mark stared at his coffee, but didn’t drink any.

After a moment, Roger prompted, “Just what?”

Mark looked up. They made eye contact for a second before he elaborated, “Just … I don’t know. I didn’t … care. It was never anything,” he searched for the right word, “ _special_. For me.” He pondered his words for a moment, trying to think of a better explanation. A bitter thought crossed his mind, and he added, “Well, I guess for Maureen, either.”

Roger snorted. He was pretty sure Maureen would have cheated on _anyone_ she’d been dating when she met Joanne, but he let Mark believe what he wanted.

“Ok, but after Maureen?” Roger was still confused as to what Maureen had offered Mark if he wasn’t into the sex. He knew there must have been _something_ because Mark had been miserable when she dumped him.

“What, after Maureen?” Mark didn’t know what Roger was getting at.

“After Maureen dumped you. Mark, you _pined_ for her.”

Mark rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Yeah.” He really was over Maureen, but he couldn’t forget how pitiful he’d been when they broke up.

“But, why, if you weren’t into—” _Oh,_ Mark finally figured out what Roger was asking.

He interrupted his boyfriend. “Roger, I _loved_ Maureen. I was in love with her.” He took a deep breath. God, he hated to remember that. He felt so pathetic. He’d been so confident in that relationship. So naïve.

Roger gave Mark a small smile, but didn’t say anything. He wondered if Maureen had loved Mark. He truly had no idea; he’d been a bit preoccupied with his own trauma when they were dating. Knowing Maureen, he’d always assumed hers and Mark’s relationship was built on sex. Not because Maureen was incredibly sensual, which was true, but because her and Mark were so _different_. Plus, frankly, Roger found Maureen’s personality extremely tiresome. So he had simply pegged that relationship as a physical one. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“What?” Roger’s smile was making Mark self-conscious.

“Nothing.” He thought Mark was cute when he was uncomfortable was all. He thought if he let Mark steer the conversation a bit, then he might relax, so he decided to remain quiet.

Mark had known this was going to happen. He should have lied. Now the most important person in his life thought he was some sort of freak, and he couldn’t figure out how to get out of the conversation. He might as well get it over with quickly then.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? It’s nice of you to bite your tongue, but I—”

“Mark, no!” Roger exclaimed, barely stifling his laughter. He hadn’t realized this was such a serious subject when he asked. “I was just … curious. I was starting to think maybe it was me, that I was wrong for you, or something. I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Mark said dumbly.

“Besides,” Roger smirked, “I will still love you even if you _are_ crazy.”

Mark smiled at that. Now he felt bad that he’d made Roger question their relationship. Of course he wasn’t wrong for him.

“You know it’s not you, right?”

Roger recognized Mark’s need for affirmation. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

They were silent again, but it was a comfortable silence now. Mark finally started to drink his coffee. Roger was glad to have eased the tension a bit, and he eventually took the opportunity to keep the conversation going.

“So what did Maureen say?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you told her what you told me.”

Mark snorted. “You think I told Maureen?”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he sounded genuinely interested.

Mark felt better knowing his boyfriend didn’t think he was crazy, and he was finding it increasingly easier to answer his questions. He still couldn’t figure out how to describe his experience, though.

“I was … I don’t know, trying to feel what you’re supposed to feel. You know, feel what everyone else felt.” He paused. “Fix myself, I guess.”

Roger couldn’t believe his ears. Mark Cohen, trying to fix _himself,_ all that time he was helping him—through April’s death, through withdrawal, through depression—fixing _him_. And as far as Roger was concerned there was nothing to fix. Not really. He loved Mark the way he was.

“So you never told her anything?”

Mark shook his head as he swallowed a sip of coffee.

“Have you told anyone else?” _Poor Mark_ , thought Roger, _trying to fix himself all alone._

“My girlfriend in high school, actually. She dumped me over it.” Roger winced at that, but Mark’s tone was matter-of-fact, in true Mark fashion. “I used to think she was the crazy one.”

“You’re not crazy,” Roger assured quickly, trying to keep Mark from becoming uncomfortable again. “So it’s been your whole life?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you ever tried,” he couldn’t believe he was asking this, “with a guy? I mean, maybe—” Roger was trying to help. He really was.

Mark scoffed. “What are you looking for here, Roger? Yeah, I’m totally gay, just, y’know, not for _you_ ,” he mocked. “Maybe I should go find some other guy who I actually—”

“Okay! Okay.” Roger threw his hand up as a stop signal.

“I think I would know.”

“Sorry.”

Mark gave him a small smile to show he forgave him.

They were quiet for a minute, until Roger expressed, “I can’t believe I never knew this.”

Mark shrugged. “I never told you.”

Roger didn’t reply. Mark suddenly remembered how Roger had reacted when Mimi kept secrets from him.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“What?” _Now_ Roger was looking at him like he was a freak. “Why would I be mad?”

“That I never told you.”

“What? No!” He realized why Mark might have thought that. “No, I’m not mad.” He left it at that, hoping it was enough.

“Okay.” Mark didn’t know what else to say.

After a couple seconds, Roger continued. “I mean … _hell_. It worked out great for me. I thought I was cheating you out of something you wanted, and you didn’t even care.”

Mark hated that Roger was in this situation, but he couldn’t deny that their circumstances had aligned perfectly. And after hearing him put it that way, he felt okay.

“I love you,” he said, as he moved to sit on the couch next to Roger. It was all he could think to say.

“I love you, too.” He put his arm around Mark.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Roger rested his chin on top of Mark’s head. He debated whether to ask his question and risk ruining the mood. As usual, impulse got the better of him.

“I just don’t get it.”

Mark lifted his head off Roger’s shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Just … what’s it like to love someone without—I mean for me, even with you, the sexual part is a—a factor.” Roger grimaced and wished he had formed the question in his head first.

Mark smirked. “A factor?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Roger ignored that and focused on phrasing his question coherently.

“I mean, I’ve never been in love with someone without feeling … how does that work?”

“You don’t believe I’m in love with you?”

“No! I just … can’t wrap my head around it.” He was really fucking this up now. So much for not ruining the mood.

Mark put his head back on Roger’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, which gave Roger enough time to wonder just how badly he’d screwed up.

Finally, Mark asked casually, “Haven’t you ever had a crush on someone without wanting to have sex with them?”

Roger answered immediately. “No. I might have said you once, but—“

“Never in your life?” Mark had lifted his head up to look at Roger again.

“I mean, maybe when I was really young…”

Roger thought of the girl he’d had a crush on in the fourth grade. She was pretty and smart and spunky, and she used to chase him around the playground constantly. He’d had a crush on her that whole year. He’d wanted to be around her all the time. He just liked who she was. A lot.

But he felt that way about Mark, too. And he’d felt that way about Mimi most of the time. He supposed maybe the sexual part was just a factor after all.

“What, like in elementary school?”

“Yeah.”

When Mark didn’t say anything, Roger asked, “Is that what it’s like?”

Mark shrugged his free shoulder. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t think of anything better.”

That was good enough for Roger. They sat like that for a while, Mark’s head on Roger’s shoulder and Roger’s chin on the top of Mark’s head. As the morning quickly turned into the afternoon, Mark got up to clean their coffee cups. He felt incredibly relaxed after that conversation. For the most part, Roger had taken it really well, and Mark didn’t feel like he thought any less of him now. He hadn’t even been dumped this time.

“Hey, what are you doing today?” Mark jumped a little. He hadn’t heard Roger get up behind him.

“Nothing. Going out to film. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, we should hang out.”

Mark considered pointing out that they were, almost literally, always hanging out together, but he understood what Roger meant. It felt like a day to be together.

“Yeah, okay.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, first, disclaimer: Neither I, nor my interpretation of Mark speak for the entire asexual community, and the experience depicted here is just one of many possible experiences. Also it goes without saying, but I don’t own Rent and am very grateful to Jonathan Larson for giving us these characters.
> 
> I tried to cover some of the cliché responses to asexuality without making it *too* corny or contrived. I recognize that a lot of people want the word asexual to actually be used in stories about ace characters, but I was working with the canon timeline and decided Mark wouldn’t know about asexuality. I still think this story is valuable because asexual people have existed long before the internet united us. I hope this work reflects some of the shame and confusion that comes from being asexual in an overtly sexual society, especially without a community to fall back on.
> 
> Lastly, I hope that Mark and Roger are at least somewhat in character (I tried!).
> 
> If you read the whole work, thanks for indulging me in one of my favorite ace headcanons, and if anyone wants to have any kind of dialogue about this fic, you can comment or find me on tumblr!


End file.
